


If you were really my brother, I'd....

by Dolavine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bondage, M/M, Rimming, dark sex, hint of cruelty, sexual banter, spoilers for season9 finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-07 00:31:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1878252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolavine/pseuds/Dolavine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam can’t get over Dean’s death or his becoming a knight of hell. They have a talk while Dean is tied up in a devil’s trap and Sam is seated on the edge, things get overheated and stuff happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If you were really my brother, I'd....

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deansdirtybb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deansdirtybb/gifts).



> Written for Deansdirtybb for her birthday. Thanks to memoonster and firesign10 for the betas and support.

It’s been a month; thirty days since Dean opened his eyes for Crowley, and every single one of those days have been spent chained to a chair in the center of a devil’s trap in the men of letters dungeon.

When Dean came up behind him, the first blade in his hand and Crowley in the kitchen doorway watching with a glint in his eyes, Sam had to make some fast choices. 

He felt like this was Dean’s initiation into the knights of hell club; kill your brother, be like Cain, be Cain, be the first knight of hell. He could almost hear Crowley’s sales pitch, ultimatum, to this thing that isn’t his brother anymore. 

Dean was still pretty unstable, still getting used to his new _unlife_ , so Sam had the advantage. Throw the angel blade that’s on the counter at Crowley and then take down Dean. 

He missed Crowley, but of course- like the sniveling salesman that he is, - he took off with a parting snarky comment. “Your aim needs some work, Moose.”

Dean was a bit harder to take down. Sam got the first blade from him, and then managed to subdue him by knocking him out with a paperweight. It took a few more blows than a normal man’s head, but he managed. 

Sam walks into the dungeon. His hair is a mess and he has a thick overgrowth of facial hair, not quite a beard but it’s on its way. He doesn’t sleep much these days and food, well; he can take it or leave it.

He stands at the edge of the devil’s trap, like he does every day, multiple times a day and stares at Dean, watching him like he’s studying him, sizing him up for some kind of experiment.

“So, what’s the plan today?” Dean asks.

Sam looks at him. His eyes are green, no trace of black; his words are very Dean, and the expression is still very much a disgruntled Dean. “No plan,” he says dryly.

“Come on, Sammy,” Dean tilts his head and gives a disgusted grin.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Sam, Samuel, Mr. Winchester. Pick one and I’ll use it.” Dean’s being smart, his snarky wit coming through.

Sam just stares at him, then turns around and walks away.

For the first time in a month, Sam doesn’t come down to the basement for two days and Dean wonders where he went.

Day 33.

Sam strolls in, stands at the edge of the devil’s trap, a straight back chair being pulled behind him, he slides it up to the edge and sits down.

“Might be time we have a talk,” he says.

Dean notices his appearance right away. “You’ve shaved, and you smell better.” He sniffs the air like a dog catching a scent. “Vanilla body wash,” he grins slyly.

“Cut the crap,” Sam scoffs. 

“Awesome, my brother is back.”

“You aren’t anymore Dean than I am,” Sam tilts his head and sneers.

“Oh, I’m still Dean, only better.”

“Better.” Sam wrinkles his brow and gives his best stern expression. “How is this,” he moves his hand up and down to gesture Dean’s body. “Better than Dean?”

“I know everything Dean knew but I’m stronger and a more efficient killing machine,” Dean cocks his eyebrow.

“So you have Dean’s memory, that doesn’t make you Dean.” Sam scoffs.

“But I know everything that my Sammy likes.” He looks at Sam from under his brow with a seductive grin.

“Stop that,” Sam commands. “Don’t ever call me that.”

“But you didn’t tell me which name you’d prefer from the list I gave you the other day, or night. I’m never sure since there aren’t any windows down here.”

“Sam,” he says quietly, like he doesn’t even want him to say that word either.

“Sam it is. So, Sam what’s the plan today?” Dean leans back in his seat and relaxes.

“Today, we talk,” Sam says, sitting up straight and squaring his shoulders.

“About…?”

“What I should do with you,” he looks Dean straight in the eyes and doesn’t flinch. 

“ _Or is it, what I should do with you_?” Dean smirks. His wet pink tongue snakes out and slips across his lips before pulling in his plush lower lip with his teeth, then letting it slip back out. He never breaks eye contact with Sam.

Sam feels a little disconcerted. His heart races a little bit, but he clears his throat and gains control again. “You’ll do nothing with me; you’re in chains, in the center of a devil’s trap. How do you think you’d even get to me?”

“Ways.” He leans back and relaxes, takes a deep, unneeded, satisfied breath. He watches Sam through half-lidded eyes.

Sam feels like he’s looking right at Dean, but knows he’s not. His brain is getting confused. Maybe it’s the fact that he misses Dean so much, longs for him, and yet here is this thing that acts like him, looks like him and knows exactly how to get to Sm, sitting right there, taunting him with Dean.

“I’m not playing your silly game, Dean.”

“I’m not playing any games, Sam.”

Sam’s silent, - he’s just watching, taking it all in.

“Well, you wanted to talk, let’s get emotional. Tell me all about how much you miss fucking me.” Dean’s hands clutch the arms of the chair. “Tell me, how you miss my mouth, my hands.” He rattles the chains. “My, ass.” Come on Sam, you love the feels, you’re such a good little brother.” 

“Fuck you!” Sam can feel his heart aching, his breathing is uneven and he wants to break down, fall into this, Dean’s, lap and sob it all out. 

“You wanna, I know you do.” Dean smiles wide, winks flirtatiously and then blows him a kiss.

“Stop that.” Sam feels strangely excited and repulsed. He adjusts himself in the seat. 

 

“That’s something you never asked me to do before.” Dean’s voice is low and sultry. He knows he’s getting to Sam and he likes it. He wants him, wants him to play into his hands and make him _his_ , all over again.

 

“Shut the fuck up!” Sam looks away, tries to hide the want in his eyes and voice. 

“Come on, Sam, there has to be a way we can resolve this.” Dean looks at Sam’s crotch then back up to his eyes again. “Some way I could prove to you that I’m as good as or even better than Dean ever was.”

“Don’t fool yourself, you could never be Dean.”

Dean watches Sam’s reaction to his flirtations. 

“I know how we can resolve this.” Dean runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, poking hard to make an apparent bulge as he circles it around for a few swipes.

“How?” Sam asks with interest but tries not to be too eager.

“How about I crawl over there and suck that fine cock of yours, but first you’ll have to undo my shackles.” Dean rattles the chains again. “Can’t crawl along the floor to your dick, if I can’t get out of the chair, now can I?” He smirks darkly.

Sam’s eyes get wide; he swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing slowly as he swallows. “I’m not undoing your restraints.” His voice is low and cold. “I’m not a fool.”

“Aww, but Sam, come on; I can do so much better than Dean.” His eyes go dark and he flicks his tongue out and slips it along his upper lip, tracing the cupids bow. 

Sam has to look twice, but he sees that Dean’s tongue is forked. “What the fuck,” he gasps.

“Oh, yeah, this.” Dean flicks it out again. “Just part of the new gig.” His eyes go green again, and he slips his now pink tongue from between his plush rose colored lips. “See, whichever you like, I’m good for all of it.”

It’s an image Sam can’t think about, that long forked tongue slithering around Dean’s soft mouth. “That’s gross.” He closes his eyes and turns his head to try and control the sick urges flashing in his head.

Dean’s smirking; he flutters his eyes, those long lashes batting innocently. “Think of all the, fun.” His eyes go dark and he slithers just the pointed tip of his tongue out and flicks it. “All the tender spots it could tickle.”

“It’s not happening.” Sam can feel his resolve fading.

“Your loss,” he says. “Not like I can do anything about it anyway,” he pulls on his iron bonds. “I’m all… tied up,” he chuckles.

“Where you’ll stay.”

“But as I recall, you kind of like me all tied up.” He gives Sam a sideways glace and a half smirk. 

“I _liked Dean_ , all tied up. You being tied up is a safety precaution. Get that straight.”

“Nothing _straight_ about it.” Dean can tell he’s got Sam on the edge. He notices the way he’s uncomfortable in his seat, how he is keeping his legs tight together to hide his crotch and the way the sweat is gathering in the hollow of his throat. 

“Fuck you, whatever the hell you are,” Sam shoots back. He’s letting his emotions flare as he fights off the want building in his gut. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s turned on. Mostly by the appearance of Dean, the wit and presence that are still there. He could easily let himself be fooled, pretend it was still Dean, but he won’t.

“Exactly my thoughts! Should I get on my knees and hang on to the back of the chair, or do you want me to lift my legs spread eagle for you,?” He lifts his legs and exposes his crotch, his hard cock pressing through the denim fabric to tease Sam. He wants this as much as Sam now. All the thoughts of all the times they fucked, all the kinks they explored and all the dark dirty desires they shared, have Dean’s engine running at full throttle.

Sam swallows hard. “Not touching that with a ten foot pole,” his words are empty as his eyes keep staring at the engorged line of Dean’s cock.

“But I love your ten inch pole; want to touch me with that instead?” Dean’s words are dark and lascivious. 

Sam’s not sure how much longer he can fight it because he wants to go over there and shove his cock down its eager arrogant throat, just to shut him up, but he’d love it far too much and that’s a satisfaction Sam isn’t willing to give him. 

“It’s twelve, or isn’t your memory so good, Dean,” he shoots back with a dark glare.

“Eleven and two thirds to be exact, we measured it, remember?” There’s a glint of sheer arousal in Dean’s dark almost inky green eyes.

Sam’s hand thoughtlessly palms his growing erection. When he catches himself he’s shocked and pulls it away quickly.

“You can touch yourself, I like to watch too.” Dean licks his lips again, bites his lower lip, and worries his thumb over his index finger like he’s waiting impatiently for the best tasting pie in the world. “I’d join you but,” he says as he vigorously shakes his chains. “I’m too restricted to jack off. Maybe that’s my problem, all this time down here, thinking about you and no way to relieve myself.” He swallows thickly, making sure to let his throat make an audible noise for Sam’s consumption. 

“Awww, demon can’t jerk off, that’s so sad,” Sam mocks him and frowns, giving him poor baby eyes. “Tsk, tsk, tsk.” He shakes his head.

“In the immortal words of Beyonce…, and she is immortal’ cause she’s a demon, You know you want this jelly.” He thrusts his hips forward and grunts. 

Sam laughs, throws his head back and gives his first real guffaw in almost a year. “That’s just…” He can hardly breathe, “Lame.” He gets control of his minor hysteria. He feels his resolve crumble slightly and allows himself to feel something for this form of Dean, “Still not going to let you loose.”

“Fine, I can do it from here.” Dean leans forward, pulls at his bonds, and shows Sam how he can use his mouth from the chair.

Sam shudders at the sight of Dean’s strong back as he leans forward, the shape of his mouth as he makes a perfect O to demonstrate his skills, and how thick the muscles in his arms get while he strains against the restraints to lean forward. “I see,” is all he says, his throat feeling tight; all of the air in his lungs trapped as he’s trying to keep from whimpering at the sight.

Dean sits back up and smiles, his eyes darker than before, but not pitch black- only a sinister dark green. “Seems like you’re interested,” He cocks an eyebrow, opens his mouth wide and adjusts his jaw before running his tongue over the pearly white teeth.

“Maybe a little intrigued as to how you think you are better than my brother at sucking cock, because he was really, really good at it,” Sam smirks, his eyes narrow. He’s feeling cocky now.

“Why don’t you find out?”

“Not really interested in having a demon suck my cock,” he spits back.

“Oh, but you have had a demon suck your cock, I think her name was Ruby.” Dean’s volleying for the upper hand.

“Shut your filthy mouth!” Sam’s pissed now.

Dean has the most satisfied look on his face to have stirred Sam’s dander up. 

“So you think it’s filthy,” he winks seductively and blows Sam a kiss. “Deliciously filthy.”

Sam can’t help it, he wants to agree, his resistance is slipping against his fully erect cock. “You’ll never compare,” he hisses out through gritted teeth.

“Let me show you that I not only compare, but exceed any and all expectations.” his eyes go black again, his stare almost cold as he challenges Sam.

Sam’s frustrated, horny, and fucking pissed off at this demon. He wants to prove him wrong, to put him in his place, to show him that he isn’t and can never be his brother. 

He doesn’t think about the next thing he does, he just acts on impulse.

“We’ll see.” Sam’s words are dark as he accepts the challenge. He walks behind Dean and makes sure the chains are securely fastened, then he drags the chair into the Devil’s trap. He sits directly across from Dean, their knees almost touching, but not quite. “Show me what you’ve got,” he says as he unbuttons his fly and exposes himself.

“Never thought you’d actually ask,” Dean eyes up the long, hard flesh lying against the dark blue denim. “As pretty as I remember it,” He licks his lips at the sight of pearl of precome resting in the slit. 

“You mean, Dean remembers,” Sam hisses darkly as he watches Dean’s eyes fixate on his cock.

“Whichever, this is your fantasy.” Dean has to adjust his arms so he can lean forward to reach Sam’s crotch. “Not going to make this easy for me, are you?” He inches forward on the seat; just enough that he’s able to be face first in Sam’s lap. “Better,” he smiles up at Sam, his eyes full of lust as he licks a long wet stripe up the underside of Sam’s cock.

Sam tenses, the sensation touching every nerve, opening up all the wounds and fading all of his resolve. “Fuck,” he moans quietly. He wants to grab Dean’s head, but he resists, grabbing the seat instead as he cants his hips forward.

Dean smiles, tilts his eyes upward, and licks his lips. “Gonna have to slip forward a little more so I have a better angle, lover.” He strains like he’s trying to fully reach Sam, but can’t.

“Fine,” Sam inches forward; he has to adjust and slip his knee between Dean’s parted legs, so that Dean’s chest is lying on his thigh. “That better?” 

“Yes, much better” Dean says as he covers the head with his mouth and sucks at it. 

Sam gasps at the warmth of Dean’s mouth. “Fuck” The word is almost guttural sounding. He rocks his hips against Dean’s tight lips, only the head is breaching them. He wants more, deeper, much deeper than he’s getting. He’s been missing Dean, missing everything about him, and the way Dean touches him is one of the biggest things he misses.

“Hang on, tiger, you’ll get more, just let me adjust here. This isn’t the most comfortable position.” He looks up at Sam, licks his already moist lips, making them extra wet before opening them to engulf the head again.

Sam watches him, mapping every contour of Dean’s face, letting himself get lost in the warm, wet feeling of Dean’s mouth. The way Dean’s fluttering his tongue over the slit is pure ecstasy; he’s pulling on the head with his lips, and sucking with just the right amount of pressure so that Sam can barely control himself. His hole is twitching and clenching, he’s squeezing his ass cheeks tight, and his hips cant forward uncontrollably. “Fucking hell,” he pants while he never takes his eyes off of Dean’s mouth.

Dean loves it, loves the way Sam’s losing control to him. He feels the dark desires swelling inside of himself and he doesn’t want to hold them back any longer, but he tries. His cock is hard and throbbing with the need for attention, he can’t even get any friction in this position. His arms hurt from being pulled tight as he lurches forward to reach Sam. He wants more access, wants Sam to take his jeans below his hips. “Slide your jeans down lower,” he says breathlessly. “Want to see everything, want to taste all of you.” He’s smirking, and his green eyes are dark and lustful.

Sam tilts his head and thinks about it for a second, then obeys, lifting himself up and pushing his jeans past his knees. 

“Thanks.” Dean licks his lips again; his mouth is his only tool of seduction. He admires Sam’s long bare thighs as he licks his way up them, the soft hairs rubbing against his neck as he stretches over them. 

He swirls his tongue over the base of Sam’s dick and nuzzles his nose in the soft hairs. Sam arches up at the tickling sensation. Dean chuckles, keeping his head buried in the warm crease of Sam’s groin. 

“Damn!” Sam resists the urge to pet Dean’s hair. “Fucking know how to get to me, don’t you?” his words are strained as he tries to hold back from clawing at Dean’s broad back.

“Told you, remember everything about you,” Dean’s words are muffled as he kisses his way up and across Sam’s abdomen; licking each tight muscle he can reach. 

Sam’s cock is pulsing as he feels Dean’s stubble brush across it. The burning sting of the stiff bristles as they rub over the shaft causes him to moan and hiss with both pleasure and pain at the same time. He circles his hips, begging for more friction. His grip on the chair tightens as Dean mouths his way up his shaft, soft open-mouth kisses all the way to the head. Sam sighs with relief when Dean sinks down over the head and lets it glide over his tongue. 

Dean’s eyes are closed as he feels himself sink down on Sam’s stiff cock. The full, almost gagging sensation of letting it slip to the back of his throat before pulling off to the head, then dropping back down on it again thrills him. The sounds coming from Sam fuel his own want. His cock is throbbing with an intensity that it never had and he tries to get some friction, tries to press his balls into the wooden chair as he uses his body to bob up and down on his brother’s stiff rod.

“Fucking hell,” Sam says again. His nails are digging into the hard wood under the seat. His eyes fall on Dean’s broad shoulders, - he wants to hold them, wants to use them for purchase as he always would, but he refuses to. 

Dean’s arms are aching from the pull of his bindings, but all he can focus on is Sam’s cock and his own throbbing, untouched hard-on. He pulls off and tilts his head, licking at the bulging sacs nestled under Sam’s cock. Dean’s spit-slick tongue slips over the tight, swollen skin of Sam’s scrotum. 

“Oh my God, yes,” Sam hisses, his body jerking with need at the feeling. “Such a good big brother,” He lets it slip out, lets himself call this thing his brother, but he can’t help it; he wants it to be him, wants it so badly that he’s willing to give in and go along with the façade. 

Dean smiles, looks up at Sam and lets all of those dark things he’s feeling rush to the surface. “Tilt your hips forward,” he says, his eyes going black.

Sam gasps at Dean’s eyes. It’s not like he doesn’t know, but now he has to admit that he’s turned on by the brother-shaped demon. He obliges and tilts his hips up, his knees pushing even closer inside of Dean’s legs, which are spread even wider as he tries to get some kind of relief. 

“Better,” Dean says, snaking his tongue out. This time it’s the forked version, and Dean slithers it down the underside of Sam’s balls, along his tender perineum, and then around the flinching, soft, dusky pucker. 

Sam throws his head back, pushes off of the chair, and moans the most mournful sound Dean’s ever heard. “So fucking good…” He takes a deep breath and then shakily releases it. It’s like an ache, a deep aching need that’s now been fulfilled as he gives in to the tender swirling and soft laps of his brother’s tongue.

Dean can’t help but enjoy how Sam’s body is lax now, how they’re moving in unison. He flicks his tongue over the clenching hole before pushing inside, twisting against the muscle as he pulls out only to dive right back in.

Sam pushes forward even more, his knees pressed tight to the inside of Dean’s hard thighs as he starts to rock his hips against Dean’s probing tongue. “Yeah, like that,” he begs, “Just like that.” His words are soft and broken.

The pressure of Sam’s knees rubbing over Dean’s thighs has him even more worked up, - he’s leaked a sticky wet spot through his jeans, and he wants that friction. He rocks forward, pulling his arms even harder, shifting his hips so that his crotch is pushing into Sam’s knee. He utters a moan of sheer pleasure and relief as Sam’s kneecap brushes over his pleading cock. The shockwaves roll up Dean’s spine as his eyes roll back into his head; he almost comes instantly, but he’s able to quickly regain control. 

Sam’s heart is racing, his body is hot and sweaty, and he needs to come _now_. “Suck me off,” he grunts and his words are gruff and commanding. 

Dean slips his tongue over Sam’s balls, and raises his head to look up at him. “Yes sir.” His eyes are still black and his tongue still forked like a snake, the pink tips peeking out as he replies to the command. He’s rocking his hips a little harder now, trying to get off as he gets Sam off. 

Sam gives in and grabs Dean’s shoulders. “Love your mouth on my cock,” he says, sounding urgent.

Slipping his tongue over the head, Dean allows the tip to dip down into the slit and probe the dark pink flesh. The salty tang of precome hits Dean’s senses and it slickly eases his way as he pushes deep inside. 

Sam’s breathing becomes more ragged as he squeezes Dean’s shoulders tighter. “You’re tearing me apart!” He pushes into Dean’s mouth, making his tongue spread the thin slit open even wider. “God, so fucking hot,” he moans as his nails bite into Dean’s flesh through his clothes.

Picking up the pace, Dean slips his mouth over the head again and sucks, slowly easing his tongue out so as not to leave Sam feeling abandoned, his tiny slit gaping open to spew forth more precome to coat Dean’s tongue as he lowers his mouth over Sam’s pulsing cock. 

When Sam’s cock hits the back of Dean’s throat, Sam surges forward with hot pleasure his knee thrusting into Dean’s cock and sending Dean over the edge. His cock jerks furiously as he pumps a thick, hot load inside his jeans. His hands pull hard at the iron cuffs holding him by the wrists as he ruts against Sam’s knee until he’s empty. 

Sam’s unaware of Dean’s orgasm; he’s lost in his own building climax. “Suck me,” he grunts out, his hips shoving hard into Dean’s mouth, looking down into those pitch black eyes, that bruised red mouth slobbering around his thick cock, and he can’t hold back any longer. Sam comes with a loud forceful grunt, shooting inside of Dean’s mouth, then pulling out before he’s finished only to come over his lips. The creamy white spooge smears over Dean’s cheek and masks the smattering of freckles painted there. 

Dean closes his eyes, and then opens them. They’re green again, watery from deep-throating Sam’s cock, his plush lips swollen and bruised reddish blue from abuse, but he’s content,- pleased that he was able to start breaking down Sam’s barrier. “Happy?” he croaks out, his throat slightly raw.

“I wouldn’t say happy,” Sam pants. He shoves Dean back into an upright position, stands up, puts himself away, and pulls the chair out of the devil’s trap. He’s breathless and satiated, kind of weak from the intense orgasm, and he leans against the chair to get his bearings.

“Looks like it was worth it,” Dean smirks. 

“I wouldn’t put it that way.” Sam regains his composure.

“Gonna let me out of these so I can clean up?” Dean asks, pushing his shackled reddened rubbed raw wrists forward.

“No,” Sam says coldly.

“Come on, not even gonna let a guy clean up after you came on his face?” Dean furrows his brow.

“Gonna leave you right where you are.” he starts to turn away then looks back over his shoulder. “Until I’m ready to use you again, that is.” He continues walking away.

A dark smile spreads across Dean’s come-drenched lips. “That’ll do, for now,” he says in a low, sinister tone.

 

The End


End file.
